


What's in a Day

by strawberrypanda2



Series: Bottom Tony Stark [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluffy, M/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, cute moments, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrypanda2/pseuds/strawberrypanda2
Summary: Imagine Clint and Tony being just as hopelessly in love with each other as ever, without any cliche fanfiction moments.





	1. Grocery Shopping

_The first time we went shopping together…_

Tony slouched over the handle of the cart, groaning complaints over how long it was taking Clint to pick which ground beef packet he wanted. “Tony, shut up, I want to make sure we have enough for everyone.” The blonde turned back to the plastic wrapped processed meat and eyed the details stuck in the corner.

“Seriously? Just get two then!” Tony’s foot pushed the cart as he rocked back, curving his back to look up at the spackled ceiling high above them. He slid his eyes to the right to see Clint studiously ignoring him. “Hawkass—“

“Language.”

“You must be joking.” Clint placed his selection of beef in the cart neatly in the corner. Shoving Tony out of the way, he looked at the list Natasha had written down for them in her neat scrawl. Ambling beside Clint, Tony nudged him with his elbow. “Why are we even here? You know I pay people to do this for us.”

Clint nudged Tony back, causing the other man to stumble behind him for a second. As Tony drew back up to his side, Clint sent a plea to the ceiling for their trip to be over soon. “Nat is punishing you—“

“Us.”

Clint stopped the cart, his jaw tensing when it squealed in protest. “ _You_. _You’re_ the one who messed with her food. Just,” Clint looked around the aisle they were in, grimacing at the baby stuff surrounding them. “Who the hell decided to put toiletries next to the baby stuff?” He shot a glare at the billionaire accompanying him, “Don’t answer that Tony. Go find,” checking the wrinkled paper again, “dish soap.”

Tony visibly paused, his eyes narrowing at Clint as if he was deciding whether to actually listen to the archer—that would be a surprise—or to spout off some other complaint. Sniffing to himself, Tony turned on his heel, his back ramrod straight, and strutted down the aisle to look for dish soap. A woman and her son froze across from Tony, the child pointing directly at him as they both babbled unintelligibly to each other. Her second child, left in the cart, began crying and Clint sighed from deep within his lungs, rubbing his temple.

Not even sparing a glance at the small family sharing the aisle with them, Tony grabbed the first thing that said dish soap and marched back over to Clint, throwing the box haphazardly into the cart. “Tony, that’s for dishwashers, we need liquid dish soap.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony quirked an eyebrow at Clint. Slowly enunciating each word, Tony leaned towards Clint, “We have a dishwasher.”

“I know. We already have dishwasher soap though. What we need is handwash soap.” They stared at each other for a beat. “Fine,” Clint growled, “I’ll get it myself.” He snatched the box out of the cart and stalked down the aisle, glaring at the crying baby as he walked past. Taking the _right_ dish soap back to the cart, Clint shoved it in the opposite corner to the meat and took over pushing the cart again.

The next few aisles tested Clint’s patience as Tony continued to complain about being there at all and how long Clint was taking. After Tony had grabbed the wrong thing for the sixth time, Clint just gave up on the man and set himself to doing everything himself. Grocery shopping was supposed to be Tony’s punishment! Clint’s knuckles were white on the cart as he restrained himself from punching Tony if only to get him to shut up for one second, until the moment he saw it; a cereal box with a Hawkeye action figurine as a prize. Gasping loudly enough that the other families around them turned their heads, Clint jumped for the box and held it tenderly in his hands. The kitschy design drew him in and he turned wide, shining eyes on Tony.

“Quick! Ask Nat if I can have it!” Then he remembered who he was talking to and dropped his happy expression. Tony’s brows were knitted together, his lips pursed, and his eyes would land on the box then slide off before repeating the process.

“Why?” Clint waved his hand over the picture of the figurine, then underlined the name of the cereal. Well, and it was cereal. “We can get a better action figure, and better cereal. What’s so special about this?”

Clint huffed. “You’re missing the point, Stark! It’s an action figure! In a cereal box! I’m in a cereal box!” The archer jumped up and down on the balls of his feet at the last sentence and held the box out to Tony once again. “Just ask her. Nat’ll kill me if I get cereal without her permission.”

Tony took out his phone, his flat eyes reflecting the bright screen as he questioned one of the most threatening assassins in the world, “You know _I’m_ paying for all of this, right?”

“Say that to Nat.” Tony just kept typing away on his phone, his teeth clicking together. “I thought so.” They waited a few minutes for the red-head’s reply, Clint cheering and tucking the cereal into the cart when she said “yes.”

Natasha must have figured Clint was ready to kill Tony since she let Clint get all the little things he wanted; cookies, skittles, and a little bow and arrow refrigerator magnet they found. By the time they got to the vegetables, Clint had a skip in his step and his hands didn’t twitch for Tony’s throat even once. He quickly grabbed the vegetables Natasha wrote on the list, pausing when he saw Tony grabbing vegetables too.

“What are you doing?” Clint couldn’t believe Tony knew the difference between good vegetables and not good vegetables. Tony kept stuffing kale into the little plastic bags and twisted it shut before tossing it in the cart. “Why the hell did you just put kale in the cart?”

The billionaire grabbed a bag of spinach, “It makes for good smoothies. I use coconut milk, dandelion seeds, and—“

“Okay, stop there. That’s disgusting.” Clint gagged at the idea of _drinking_ kale. “You’re just messing with me right? You actually had no idea what you were grabbing and are trying to play it cool.” Tony’s mouth twisted up and one of his eyebrows went up as they scrunched together. Clint recoiled from Tony, his face a mask of horror. “Why would you drink that?”

Tony sighed and threw the spinach in the cart. “It detoxes my system.”

Clint shuddered. “Never say that to me again.” Tony rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head. It was amazing how someone so fit could love junk food so much and have such an aversion to healthy food. Clint just tried to scrub his mind of the information that Tony drank detox smoothies.

Check out was spent with them arguing the benefits of healthy food versus junk food, both men ignoring the awestruck cashier that occasionally added a word in. Back at the tower, Tony took off before Clint could rope him into helping bring in the groceries, leaving the archer yelling insults to his back.

Natasha was waiting in the living room, smirking at Tony when he stepped out of the elevator. “Never again,” he swore to her unfaltering smirk, “But you were right.” With that final statement, Tony sped up the stairs and into his own room where he took out his phone and opened up his gallery. At the top of the list of pictures was a picture of Clint staring at him with wide blue eyes, a box of kids’ cereal held out in his hands and the dumbest pout puffing his cheeks out.

“How childish. JARVIS, save this to the backups. For blackmail.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

“Seriously. Blackmail.”

_I wanted to punch you in the face._

_But you were disgustingly cute, so it’s okay._

_We’re never doing that again though._


	2. That One Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine them watching a movie together. Not cuddling together, or one getting scared and clutching the other, no. Imagine them watching something stupid and person A cussing out the tv while person B rolls their eyes and, “WHat the hell are you doing HE’S NOT THE FATHER!!!1!”
> 
> Clint and Tony watch a movie together. It doesn't quite work out the way they want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost didn't finish this before midnight (my time). Woot! I actually posted two weeks in a row even though I didn't have the whole thing already written.

_Remember that one movie, Killer Mermaid?_

            Tony walked in on Clint scrolling through Netflix, his eyes taking on the sheen of someone who had been scrolling for hours already. For some reason, Clint’s movie suggestions were all rom-coms and B-movies, even though the archer always picked comedies and mysteries on his turn for movie nights. The spysassion (name courtesy of Tony’s coffee-induced imagination) didn’t even twitch when Tony walked past, which was an insult if ever Tony saw one, but not enough of one to convince Tony to poke at the laying bird.

            Still, Clint was seriously out of it, so Tony looked around the common room, hoping someone else was there for Tony to sic on Clint. Nope. No one. Cursing to himself, Tony ruffled his greasy hair with a grimace and walked to the kitchen to grab himself a coffee. There was no way he was dealing with a bored Clint on no coffee.

            Steaming ambrosia in hand, Tony wandered back into the large living room, seeking the presence of one of their allies once more. Nothing. Resigned, Tony plopped down on the couch next to Clint, shoving the other man until he let Tony squeeze under his legs. Bored blue eyes rolled to Tony as Clint pursed his lips, his cheeks puffed out with air.

            “There’s nothing on.”

            Tony scrubbed his rough hands up and down his face, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced under the glare he sent Clint. “There’s plenty on. Just pick something.” Clint groaned, but scrunched his eyes shut and scrolled down and across until he got bored. Without looking, he picked the movie he ended up on, only to hit his head back on the couch’s arm when he saw what he picked.

            “Killer Mermaid? Really? Who looked at that and thought, ‘now that’s a good idea! Let’s do it!’ huh?” Glaring balefully at the idealistic scenery and foreign names moving across the screen, Clint added a sneer to his expression. “This is going to be a stupid movie.”

            Rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt, Tony smacked Clint’s ankle, “Just shut up and watch the fucking movie, Legolas. Or do I need to put L-O-T-R in?” Clint huffed and shifted so one of his elbows rested on the couch’s arm and his loose fist propped his chin up. Tony grunted when the archer’s heel knocked him in the side, and shifted warily when the archer’s final position left his heel right in Tony’s groin.

            Joining in on the grumbling, Tony stretched forward to put his coffee on the table before he spilled it. They lasted only the first few minutes before making a sound; both men groaned when the couple from the intro began making out. Tony made some comment about how the scene was just fanservice as soon as the woman got rid of her top, and Clint started complaining about how boring the movie was. Of course, Tony shushed Clint, since they were too little into the movie to really decide whether it was boring or not. Not that Tony thought Clint was wrong though.

            The shirtless blonde died with a grappling hook through her throat and the movie shifted over to a pair of girls. Another few minutes passed before Clint shot Tony a flat look, “Tony, their acting sucks. And really,” Clint cleared his throat and affected a higher pitch, “’we’re only friends. It’s really nothing!’” Speaking normally, he called the entire plot obvious.

            Scrubbing at his face again, Tony leaned forward for his coffee, stopping short with the effort as Clint’s heel dug into his groin and stomach. “This is ridiculous. Either get up so I can get my coffee and get comfortable, or get my coffee for me.” Clint stared at the screen, not really watching, for a few minutes before slowly dragging himself up.

One shoulder jerked up, then the other, then his arms stiffly straightened, all until he was upright a few inches from Tony’s side. He handed the brunette his coffee and instead leaned back and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Better?”

“Much.” Slouching into the cushion, Clint stretched his arms along the back, using his right arm to nudge Tony closer.

In theory, that was as smooth as Clint could get, and it was an excellent idea. Feed the genius coffee and offer silent, non-judgmental cuddles. In practice, two men practically the same height did not fit together well when cuddling on the couch. Since Clint was slouching, his arm didn’t comfortably encircle Tony’s broad shoulders, and Tony’s elbow was awkwardly trapped between their bodies, digging into both of their sides. The overworked engineer cocked his head to the side to make it feel less like he was craning his neck, only to fail to rest his head on Clint’s shoulder since it was much lower down.

They both shifted at the same time, resulting in Clint’s right arm getting shoved up suddenly while simultaneously smacking Tony in the head. Both cursing, they scooched away from each other, pointedly not looking at each other. They gave up just in time for one of the American women on screen to make out with her ex that was supposedly engaged to another woman entirely. Clint nudged Tony’s shoulder and jerked his chin towards the screen, “I told you so. This is more predictable than Justin Hammer.”

Tony choked on his coffee, the cup shaking in his hand and spilling some of the hot liquid on his pants. He jumped and rubbed at the spot, but didn’t bother to get up and clean it off. Coffee was hardly anything compared to what he got hit with in the lab.

They continued watching the movie, spouting off whatever comments came to mind, rarely actually responding to each other. Bored and tired as Clint was though, not even he could let the explanation slide. “You mean creepy red neck guy in Ukraine is fucking the ugly fish lady? Are you serious? Why the hell did she get out of the water? Who wrote this shit?!” By the end of his rant, Clint’s hands were raised above his head, and his feet had dropped from the coffee table to the floor. “Why did you give the harpoon to chick? How’s she going to help? Would you do that?”

No response. Clint looked over, “Tony?” Tony was no longer paying attention to the movie or Clint. Instead, his head was knocked back, his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. Somehow, without Clint noticing, Tony had fallen asleep. Clint stared blankly for a second, completely missing the one guy that the dead ex hated jumping or falling to his watery death. He took the mug from Tony’s lax grip and put it on the table, his expression clear of his thoughts.

_Bastard. How dare he?_

Clint couldn’t resist the glare he sent at Tony. Plus, everyone knew falling asleep during a movie made you fair game. Totally.

This was no time for a prank though. No, this called for something more satisfying. Without giving a single though to the repercussions, Clint punched Tony in the arm, mouth already tilting up for a smile. The next second wiped the smirk off his face as Tony full on back-handed Clint as he jerked awake. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember where he was, then settled confused doe eyes on the cursing archer.

“What the hell are you doing, Merida?”

The glare Clint sent Tony was downright dirty. Hand still on his tender jaw that would definitely bruise, Clint waved broadly towards the TV. “I think it’s over.”

Tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows, Tony shrugged and got up from the couch. “In that case, I’m going to bed Robin Hood. You’re watching the next one on your own.” Forgoing speech, Clint simply waved Tony away.

_That… really sucked._

_At least now we know we can’t cuddle._

_But I was happy you stayed with me that whole time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know what y'all thought was the cutest moment. (Or, y'know, a picture of Clint and Tony cuddling on the couch. That'd be great. Not the painful cuddling though.)


	3. Midnight Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine them dancing. Not slow, romantic dancing, but twirling and stepping on each other’s feet and slightly drunk and person A falls, dragging person B down with them.
> 
> Clint and Tony get back from one of Pepper's things (and really, she should have known not to make them go), and decide to dance on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh. Is this the third successful week in a row I'm posting? Seriously? Yes! Let's pray for next week to be as successful guys!

_What about that time we got back from Pepper’s fundraisers?_  

Tony and Clint stumbled onto the landing pad, grinning insanely at each other. The metallic arms that usually had such an easy time removing Tony’s armor struggled around the archer plastered to Tony’s side, and contrived not to hit either lurching fool. J.A.R.V.I.S. made some cutting comment or other that set the two into further uncontrollable giggles, and they finally fell through the waiting open doors at the end of the half-circle strip. 

They had just returned from some fundraiser Pepper forced all of the avengers into—even Natasha was cowed into attending—where they had just been sent away from the very woman who made them attend. It was hardly their fault they got bored and began drinking and dancing together. Apparently they were supposed to dance with “other people.” With their new-found permission (orders, whatever) to leave, Clint and Tony were quick to take off and go home. At least there they didn’t have to deal with schmoozing and catty reporters. J.A.R.V.I.S. was plenty catty, but he was J.A.R.V.I.S. so enough said. 

Still on his drinking binge, Tony tried to separate from Clint to get them more alcohol, but the blonde dug his heels in. “C’mon, Tones. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be encouraging you.” 

Tony felt a raised eyebrow sent the other man’s way was answer enough. It was strange seeing Clint so close, though. This close, he could see the little specks of color in Clint’s blue eyes. And feel Clint’s breath brush against his cheek. Sniffing to himself, Tony turned his head away and tried to pull from Clint’s octopus grasp. It was unfair how strong the archer’s arms were. Just because it made perfect sense did not make it suddenly okay. 

Giving in with a sigh, Tony sunk back into Clint’s hold. “Fine. But I insist on a dance.” 

Clint grinned toothily at Tony, not seeming to care how close their faces were. He did, but he was just as good at hiding it as Tony was. “Alright. J.A.R.V.I.S., can you play us a circus waltz?” 

Cue another eyebrow raise from Tony, “A circus waltz?” 

“Yeah,” Clint stepped back just enough to adjust his hold on Tony to the proper leading position, “they’re fun. Just listen.” 

“Why am I the girl?” 

“Have you ever danced to a circus waltz?” 

Tony held his silence and put his free hand on Clint’s shoulder. “I’m leading the next dance.” The music started on an odd beat, dropping low every first beat out of three, and a high ringing backdrop played over it.  

They started simple, Clint properly leading Tony through standard steps, then he began to sing notes along with the music. “Ba ba-da, bum ba-da, ba ba-da, bum ba-da, dum. Dada-dadada dum.” He hummed deeply and started taking wider steps around the coffee table, leading Tony in giant circles. Tony laughed when Clint bobbed his head to the chiming piano notes dancing circles around them. With the strange music filling the room along with the lights shining from beyond the windows looking out to New York, Tony found it all too easy to let the world fall into a swirl of dark mixed with light. 

Perhaps he had a bit much to drink, as evidenced by them stumbling over each other’s feet as the music slowed down. They managed to catch themselves, silly smiles on their faces. Two grown men standing in a dark living room dancing around a coffee table to circus music… It only made sense to keep going. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S., play another.” In cordial humor, J.A.R.V.I.S. started up another song, this one accompanied by a vocalist. The tune was stronger, deeper, but also faster than the first one, sending the two off into a dance. Clint led for the first few seconds before Tony remembered through his haze that he was supposed to lead. 

“Katniss, I believe it’s my turn to lead.” Clint barked a laugh at Tony, tightening his grip so Tony couldn’t switch their positions. Although he tried to switch their stances, Tony hadn’t quite thought to stop dancing, so they continued to go around and around. As they spun around the corner of the coffee table, Tony managed to slip his hand out of Clint’s with a shout of joy. His weight shifted back with the force of his success, feet already having loose balance as they danced, and down Tony went. 

Clint tried to stop Tony’s descent, having his arm around the other man’s waist and all that, but went down with him, and they crashed straight into the coffee table. The music kept playing over the multiple crashes as each table leg gave out one at a time. Tony’s arms were trapped between his and Clint’s chests, but Clint had the forethought to wrap a hand around the back of Tony’s head to prevent head damage. Hissing at the weight of Tony’s back awkwardly pressing his arm into the table, Clint shifted so he could lock eyes with Tony. 

Brown eyes burrowed into his own, and all he wanted to do was laugh at the lost look he got. The woman kept singing from the hidden speakers—J.A.R.V.I.S. seemed to have decided Tony and Clint were fine enough to not ask. “I think-“ 

The final leg of the coffee table snapped audibly and they had a split second to send wide eyed looks to each other before it gave out under their weight and they were finally all the way on the ground. Groaning, Clint dropped his head to Tony’s shoulder and just spoke into his shoulder. “I think we should call it a night.” 

Snorting, Tony brought one of his hands up to his face. “I think you may be right.” They scrambled back and forth to get back up, both still drunk enough that it was an effort. Once again, they stood leaning on each other, their arms slung over the other’s shoulder. 

 _“I~_ _loooove_ _cheap thrills~/I~_ _loo_ _oove_ _cheap thrills~”_ Tony frowned. 

“Right, J.A.R.V.I.S., you can turn that off.” 

Clint snickered. “Well, we did get to dance.” Tony spared Clint a confused glance. “The song. It’s a cover of ‘Cheap Thrills’. I think, anyway.” In the fading music, Clint spun Tony into his chest and pressed his forehead to Tony’s, “I think I understand why all she needs is dancing.” He tilted his head to finally kiss Tony, but the dinging of the elevator made both men jump and their teeth clash right before their proximity set off their balance. Once again, they were falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. 

This time, they just rolled over with groans. 

 _Dancing with you was more fun than dancing with anyone else._  

 _Too bad we spent the next day nursing bruises and hangovers._  

 _But I will always save a dance for you._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I did kind of fail at not making it cute. Damnit. But I wanted to have them dance well so much! I mean, really. Clint is a super observant spysassin, and Tony has been dancing at these balls for decades now. I just can't see them stepping on each others' feet unless there's something else going on. 
> 
> P.S. I'm dying. I ship these two so much and this scene is so- aiya! Ima just kiss my babies all over the face now. kthxbye.


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine them sleeping together. Not holding each other close or spooning, but person A snoring so loud that person B has to hit them to wake them up. And imagine person A hogging the blankets and person B getting upset because it’s really cold.

_Our first night sleeping together…_

Things had been quiet for the Avengers for a few weeks now, which was unusual but much appreciated. Even Clint and Tony were so bored that they finally confronted each other about their budding feelings. Not that they would call it that. It was strange, for both of them. Somehow, they both thought admitting to some sort of relationship would mean having sex from the get-go; Tony thought because Clint thought he was just that kind of guy, and Clint just thought that Tony was that kind of guy. Confusing, yes.

Not that they weren’t leading up to that, as planned. Tony was grease-stained and exhausted (really the only time he was ever going to admit to having feelings), and Clint was clammy palmed and hyper-aware of the genius. As a matter of course, they began kissing, neither man the shy kind to back down, and Clint backed his way to Tony’s room. Somehow, Clint had managed to back his way all the way to Tony’s bed without separating from the engineer, and down they went, teeth smacking painfully as they landed on the bed.

Tony and Clint rolled away from each other, hands clasping their mouths as they groaned. “Fuck it. I’m going to bed.” Clint rolled his teary eyes towards Tony, watching the older man crawl up the bed until he was sprawled all the way on the mattress.

“I guess I’ll go then.” Clint began pushing himself up until Tony’s foot hooked around his waist.

“Just come on. We can just sleep. Nothing wrong with that.” The last sentence was muffled as Tony stuffed his face into the crook of his elbow. It was a nice idea: just sleeping together. Fewer expectations that way. In a dumb way, it felt more innocent. Neither man was going to admit that thought out loud. So Clint scooted back up the bed, rolling on his side so he could face Tony. This way felt better, so the archer smiled at Tony, upgrading to a grin when he saw the dorky smile Tony returned. If this was how things were really going to be, this was perfect.

…

…

_Ahhh_

_Wheeew_

...

That was the loudest noise Clint had ever heard. Grunting, he forced his eyes open to glare at Tony. He snored again, and Clint lifted himself up on one arm to look down at the loud sleeper. Of course Tony snored. The man was curled up on his side, the blankets wrapped tightly around his shoulder. Clint was bare of the sheets, but only realized after a few more seconds of being awake. So Tony stole the sheets too. Cursing, Clint smacked Tony on the arm, waking the man up with a jerk.

“Wha?”

That hardly deserved a response, and Clint deigned to give none other than stealing back the loose sheets and blankets and curling back under them. The room was dark, J.A.R.V.I.S. was kind enough to turn down the lights, and Tony jerked his eyes around trying to figure out what had happened. He blinked down at the archer as his eyes finally adjusted, shrugging when he only saw Clint’s tense shoulder rounded under the blanket. Figuring he had just woken up randomly, as he sometimes did, he flopped back and let the darkness overtake him again.

…

…

_Thump_

…

_Thud_

…

_BANG!_

Tony came awake with a painful start, his chin stinging and his arc reactor weighing his chest down. “What the fuck?” Instead of a soft mattress underneath him, the dark red carpet gave beneath his weight. It only hurt marginally less than if Tony had fallen directly on a tile floor. At least it was warmer than plain tile flooring. Pain not only flared from Tony’s face and entire front, but his back and legs too. Pushing up and grabbing the edge of the bed, Tony peered through the darkness at the other man he was supposed to be _sleeping_ with.

Clint was there, but there was no indication he was awake and just pulling a prank on Tony. The sheets were tossed over the other side of the bed, the lower half tangled in Clint’s struggling legs. Another errant kick flew towards Tony’s face, and the man dodged, realizing what the small spots of pain were.

Although Tony suffered nightmares himself, he hardly knew how to deal with them. In his experience, every time someone tried to wake him from a nightmare, they ended up getting attacked. Tony was strong, but there was no doubt that Clint would be the more lethal man upon waking up. Pursing his lips, Tony rocked back and got to his feet, observing his… friend? Lover? Were they quite there yet? Whatever, Clint’s current state was more important. Fuzz wrapped around Tony’s brain as he tried to think through Clint’s near-silent whimpers. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt like he barely got any sleep after his three-day engineering binge.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony’s voice cracked and he rubbed at his face. “Right, what do I do?”

_“Sir, my sensors indicate that Mr. Barton’s heartrate is much higher than normal. Perhaps it would be wise to wake him?”_

“I would, J.A.R.V., but you know how well that works for me.”

_“Shall I recommend you wear your armor so Mr. Barton cannot cause you harm?”_

Tony threw his hands up in the air, before dropping them down, his whole body drooping with the movement. Clint was sweating worse than Tony had ever seen the archer sweat, darkening the sheets beneath him. “Then he’ll end up hurting himself on the armor. Next suggestion.”

_“Perhaps you should try calling his name, sir?”_

With nothing else to do, and mind aching too much to think of anything on his own, Tony began softly calling to Clint. The other man slowly settled. An eternity later, Clint rolled towards Tony and blearily rubbed at his eyes.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

Heaving a sigh, Tony flopped onto the bed and gave a tired chuckle. “This did not work out nearly as well as I thought it would.” Clint’s brows furrowed and he reached out to touch Tony’s shoulder.

“Did something happen?” Tony moved his head to the other side so he could look up at Clint without actually getting up.

“You know what? Let’s have pancakes. I could go for pancakes. I bet you’re starving too.”

“Well, yeah,” Clint reached to pull the blankets off only to see that he had tossed them off at some point. He pinched the bridge of his nose and felt the burning behind his eyes and the sweat drying on his skin. He hadn’t noticed at first because his attention was all on Tony, but suddenly he knew just why Tony seemed odd. “I had a nightmare, didn’t I? Shit. I didn’t hit you, did I?”

At first, Tony didn’t say anything, just crawled into Clint’s lap so he could press his calloused hands to Clint’s cheeks. “Come on, I have nightmares too. I was just too out of it to have one tonight. We’ll be fine. Now, I want pancakes.” Letting himself smile, Clint wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and dropped his head onto Tony’s shoulder.

“You know what, pancakes sound amazing.”

_I thought you would take the nightmares away._

_But you didn’t._

_You did something better than that, though._

_You gave me someone that I could be 100% me with. I worried about hurting you, sure, but you gave me just as many bruises. You knew all about the lame movies I loved to watch._

_You knew all my favorite dances. We had fun together even at our worst. I think I loved you from the first dumb nickname you gave me._

_And I’ve loved you since then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter isn't so great. I just don't know. I know how I wanted it to go, but I just don't feel that I transmitted the idea at all. Anyway, this is it. Sadly, I realized that I could have written this so much different and it would have been even better, but hey, I was committed.

**Author's Note:**

> I would die if someone drew a picture of Clint excitedly holding a cereal box out at Tony. Can you imagine how cute that would be? Anywho, lemme know how you feel about it?


End file.
